Tales from the Outer Rim: Luck of the Draw
by ZacMuleer
Summary: From the  potential  short story compendium, STAR WARS: Tales from the Outer Rim, Luck of the Draw follows the early days of my original character Zac Muleer, and his first contact with the struggles of the galaxy.
1. Chapter 1

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_

**STAR WARS: TALES FROM THE OUTER RIM**

Luck of the Draw

_From the Adventures of Zac Muleer_

-1-

"Ensign Muleer!" The instructor threw a datachip at the distracted flight cadet, missing Zac's head by inches. "Pay attention, or I'll ground you so hard, you'll wish you never boarded this station!"

"Yessir." Zac snapped to attention. "Sorry, sir." Zac's cheeks burned with embarrassment but he couldn't help glancing once more outside the viewport. A brand new squadron of Incom Z-95 Headhunter trainers was being delivered to the Corellian Spaceyard just for him and his colleagues. They were attached to a hauler, so they were exposed to open space for the whole station to see, and beginning docking procedures just behind where the instructor stood.

The instructor took a deep breath and sharply barked at the roomful of trainees. "Now, I know you dirty groundpounders think you can pilot the Z-95s pulling in behind me. But you have to earn that right. Only the top twelve of you will move on to space training. The rest of you will stay in the simulators until you become one of the top twelve, or you wash out."

Zac's mind began to drift back out into the open space behind the instructor. He had spent countless hours in the simulators flying every type of ship from freighters to snubfighters, and even began his certification on old cargo haulers. His nights were divided between studying all of the reg manuals he could get his hands on. Well, that and drinking at the station's dive bar where pilots congregated. He wasn't the youngest pilot in the Corellian Flight Academy, as one of his classmates liked to boast, but he could at least get into the spacer cantinas and drink with the pilots who visited the station.

Most of the stories he heard were from freighter pilots. Rarely were snubfighter jocks on station for long periods of time, and those that were didn't spend much time in station dive bars. But now, he could be one of the few on station who spent time inside of a Z-95 Headhunter. Zac thought to the previous week when their class was notified they would be getting some space-time in real fighters. He _may_ have already informed one of the Twi'lek dancers on Deck Four that he was running patrols in a snubfighter.

_Lucky break for me, _Zac thought. _Assuming I make it into the top twelve._ He glanced around at the thirty or so students who were staring at their instructor. _Not a problem._

The instructor was finishing his 'pep talk.' "Class, your next assignment is to spend some time with the training instructor in Docking Bay Sixty-two. The Headhunters are all there and are being modified for training exercises. That means low-intensity lasers, higher shields, and no hyperdrive. Don't want you taking my ships out of the sector. It's not that I don't trust you, but I don't trust you."

The instructor pulled out a datapad and tapped a few keystrokes. "Your assignments have now been posted. Flight Officer Els'eil will introduce you to the new equipment, and send half of you back to the simulators. Don't embarrass me." The instructor turned on his heel and left the room, leaving the class standing at attention. It only took one recruit to make a break for Docking Bay Sixty-Two that sent the rest of the class scrambling after him like children after unopened presents.

They reached the docking bay in a pack, collecting just inside the blast door. All of them had been around starships before, but this was a unique experience to them: these starships were _theirs._ Before Zac could take a step toward the closest of the Z-95s, a sharp voice snapped them into formation.

"Training squadron, form up!" A female voice shouted, echoing throughout the docking bay.

Zac's eyes darted around, looking for Flight Officer Els'eil, when a black-furred bothan marched in front of the formation and stopped. Her fur was streaked with white stripes and she wore a green flight suit with a respirator attached to the vest on her chest. She moved down the line of recruits, eyeing each one with a furrowed brow. The fur along her snout rippled, a sign of agitation, as she passed each student. She locked eyes with the recruit next to Zac and stopped in front of him. Zac wasn't watching but he knew what was going on: his eyes were darting up and down Flight Officer Els'eil and behind her, looking.

"Expecting someone else?" Els'eil demanded.

"No, ma'am. I, uh…" the recruit stuttered. "I thought you would be in uniform. I was looking for your rank." Els'eil waited. "Uh, ma'am."

She began pacing in front of the recruits. "Let me tell you something your previous instructors won't." She barked. Pointing at the respirator on her flight suit, she snapped, "_This_ is the only uniform that matters. Your rank will not keep you alive from the hard vacuum of space. A focused corporal can shoot down a reckless commander faster than the Maw will swallow you up on a Kessel Run." Zac suppressed a smile. She stopped pacing in front of Zac and locked eyes with him. "What about you? Were you expecting something else?"

_Let's play, _ Zac thought mischievously. "I just thought you'd be taller, ma'am."

Zac heard the collective breathing of his colleagues cease, but Els'eil was suppressing a smile of her own. "Muleer, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"For your sake, you better be a good pilot."

"Nothing to worry about, ma'am." Zac couldn't suppress his smile at this point.

"Typical Corellian bravado," Els'eil muttered. "Recruits, your postings are on the flight board on the back wall. Everyone is dismissed, except for Mr. Muleer here."

Zac's stomach dropped. _Here we go again,_ he thought. His classmates scurried away from Zac as quickly as they could. Flight Officer Els'eil hadn't moved from Zac's line of sight. As soon as the last recruit was out of earshot, Zac could see her twist and stretch her shoulders and set her jaw. "Don't move, Zac. If anyone looks, I want them thinking I'm yelling at you."

"Yes, ma'am." Zac's smile was back, but he was locked at attention.

"Would you stop calling me 'ma'am'? You know I hate that."

"Yes, ma'am."

Her black and white fur rippled and Zac grinned. "Look, Zac, I have good news and bad news."

"I hate it when conversations begin like that."

"Quiet. You've cleared the bar for inflight Z-95 training. But I can't put you in the cockpit of one of those new birds just yet. You're the only one in the squadron with tramp freighter training, so I need to put you on ejection patrol." She could see the disappointment in Zac's face. "Now don't give me that. You'll still get inflight training, and in something that is far more applicable to real life."

"Not if another war breaks out," Zac said, remembering how pivotal fighter pilots were in the Clone Wars.

"Especially if another war breaks out." Els'eil jabbed a finger into Zac's chest, but her voice was a much softer tone. "I'll help you into fighter training during downtime. But for now, I need you in the pickup freighter. The current flight officer assigned to the freighter is out with Talusian fever. He's as green as a Hutt in heat, and I don't want him in any of my ships. It should only be for a few weeks. Zac, I wouldn't ask anyone I didn't trust."

"Fine, Fayla. But you owe me one." Zac grinned.

"My recommendation to get you into this academy doesn't count?"

"Not even a little bit."

Zac noticed his classmates making their way back to him in a gaggle, and some were beginning to notice that Flight Officer Els'eil wasn't tearing into him as much as they initially thought. Zac straightened up and locked his jaw. Els'eil took the hint and barked at Zac, "I don't want to hear any more of it, cadet. Shape up, or I'll pull you out of rotation so fast, you'll have a hard time finding Centerpoint Station! Dismissed!" She twisted around and marched past the first group of cadets that were walking back from the postings.

"Whoo, Zac, you better watch yourself around her!" One of his colleagues chided him.

"What's she have you doing, Zac?" another asked. "You weren't on the flight roster, but I _know_ you got a better score than me on the last exam."

"Ah, I got such high scores on my simulator runs, she has me flying a tramp freighter around you guys. She's just tryin' to level the playing field against you." Zac smiled and they headed back to the barracks. He would keep up the ruse as best he can, but he still couldn't help but feel cheated at the chance to fly a snubfighter. He took one more longing look at the Z-95 Headhunters as they were still being offloaded from the cargo freighter, and headed to his next class.


	2. Chapter 2

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_

**STAR WARS: TALES FROM THE OUTER RIM**

Luck of the Draw

_From the Adventures of Zac Muleer_

-2-

"Trainer Six, match speed and tighten up formation. You're flying low and off about six degrees." Zac watched as the rear Z-95 altered its flight path and moved to its correct position. "Better," he said and the clicked off his comm. Pulling the headset down around his neck, he slumped back in the semi-comfortable chair in the cockpit of an older model Corellian freighter. He stretched his arms out to either side and could barely touch the walls on either side of him.

_At least I have some room to move around,_ Zac thought. Six weeks into space training, and his snubfighter scores weren't improving as fast as he wanted them to. The original freighter pilot had taken a turn for the worst from his Talusian Fever and transferred off the station. Zac was getting better with the freighter, but his scores in the Z-95 simulations had leveled off, while his class was steadily improving. But his knowledge of the limitations and capabilities of the freighter had been vastly expanded. So much that Zac was beginning to find errors (or at least miscalculations) in the regulation manuals. _ May as well be a droid. I can get a job for cargo delivery. _

"Zac?" Fayla's voice over the private comm channel.

He clicked over to the channel and keyed up his mic. "Yeah, Fayla. Zac here. What's up?"

"We've got a cargo shipment of crystallized Tibanna gas entering the system in a few cycles. We're at bingo fuel, so I've got to take the squadron back to the hangar, but I need you to keep flying and escort that freighter in. We'll be sending them to Docking Bay Twenty two on the far side of the shipyard, where the manufacturing takes place." Unstable gases, like tibanna, were a necessity in both modern weaponry and engine building. Tibanna gas was frequently used as hyperdrive coolant. But in crystal form they were used for a catalyst in weapon systems, increasing damage output. Unfortunately, until they were installed into the weapon systems, they were highly unstable, so the shipments usually aren't ordered until the last cycle.

Zac's mind filled with questions, but he knew he had limited time. "Why is the airspace clear?"

"Their escort was called back to Bespin, and we're out of fuel. No other ships are out at the moment, so you're it."

"No escort for a gas shipment?"

"CorSec is putting some fighters up now, but they don't see any reason they'll be needed, so they are taking their sweet time. They'll be a few cycles behind. I just need you there to ensure the pilot knows where he's going." She paused, and there was an edge in her voice. "Zac, there's one other thing."

"Fayla…."

"The administrator _may_ not know that you are just a recruit."

"Fayla!"

"Look, Zac, it's my furry ass on the line if he finds out. I made the flight assignments and we are short on the flight roster. The lead instructor told me I had a choice – to let a trainee pilot the freighter or we put off spaceflight and keep you guys in the simulator. Only thing is, the base administrator never was told. For six weeks, the paperwork has been tied up and he still thinks the pilot of that freighter has been an instructor." There was a slight pause. "Just keep doing what you've been doing. This is nothing but routine."

Zac clicked his comlink, a sign that he had received the message, but didn't have anything to say. His ears burned under his headset and he could feel his heart racing with anger. Forcing himself to take several deep breaths, he began the rendezvous checklist and pulled back on the flight yoke, proceeding to the coordinates where the Bespin freighter was scheduled to exit hyperspace.

The comlink clicked and Fayla's voice was back, but this time is was on the broadcast channel. "Freighter _Shadow Eclipse_, this is Trainer Lead. Proceed to rendezvous coordinates of cargo hauler _Smuggler's Vice_ and escort them into the station. Dual fighter escort is en route from Coronet."

Zac took a quick look out the viewport towards the planet of Corellia. A quick judge of the land masses told Zac that Coronet was on the far side of the planet. He tapped his comlink. "Roger, Trainer Lead. _Shadow Eclipse_ headed to the rendezvous now." He hit the sublight engines and pulled toward the hyperspace lane where the gas crystal shipment would soon appear. Watching the countdown clock, he turned on his long range sensors, looking for anything. _Still no sign of the fighter escort from Corellia._ He watched thirteen blips disappear as the training squadron entered the hangar of the spaceyard station.

For the moment, he was alone in space. He took a deep breath and listened to the orchestra of his ship. The quiet whirring of the engines far behind him, combined with the soft popping of the air reprocessor, intermittently interrupted by beeping of the navicomputer soothed the anger he felt at being caught up in bureaucratic loopholes. At least he was flying, which was more Zac could say for the rest of his class.

A klaxon alarm jolted Zac from his trance. Proximity alarm. Zac throttled up and twisted the flight yoke hard, pushing the freighter down and away from his stationary position. He flicked the switches controlling the sound of the alarms and keyed up his comlink while watching the sensors. A single freighter appeared on the scope, but was off course. The name appeared above the blip. "_Smuggler's Vice_, this is _Shadow Eclipse_. You are exiting hyperspace at two-one-two mark five-eight. You are off by thirteen klicks. Please respond." The incoming freighter barreled out of hyperspace right through Zac's previous position and was headed directly for the planet's spaceyard dock.

Only static answered him.

Cursing – and knowing the comm was still active – Zac pulled on the flight yoke, bringing the _Shadow Eclipse_ in line behind the freighter. He pushed the throttle up. "_Smuggler's Vice_, you are cleared to land in Docking Bay Twenty-two on the Corellian spaceyard. Please adjust your heading and cut your speed to prepare for docking maneuvers."

Still only static.

"Blast it." Zac hit the afterburners and closed to two klicks behind the cargo ship. He began a full scan of the vessel and adjusted his comm channel. "Corellian Spaceyard, this is _Shadow Eclipse_. We seem to have a problem out here with the cargo hauler _Smuggler's Vice_. I'm hailing them on the comm and haven't received a response. They have not verified the docking procedures and haven't cut their sublight engines." Zac quickly calculated the trajectory. "And they're still headed right for the station."

"Roger, _Shadow Eclipse_. We're hailing them as well. See if you can get their attention."

Zac twisted the yoke and flew the _Shadow Eclipse_ at an angle above the _Smuggler's Vice_. He had closed the distance to less than a klick now, but needed to be even closer to determine if there were any life forms aboard. With afterburners at eighty-five percent, Zac wasn't going to be able to keep up for too much longer. The station was only ten klicks away.

Zac looked up through the viewport and could see the cargo freighter clearly now. Scorch marks littered the side of the hauler and the engines were sparking as they strained to keep up to speed. Zac twisted the _Shadow Eclipse_ father around the axis so he could see the escape pods. There were no escape pods , but rather than see an empty pod bay, there was a gaping hole in the side of the ship. Zac could actually see the gangways and interior hallways.

"Uh, control, we have a problem. _Smuggler's Vice_ looks like it was attacked before it entered hyperspace. No escape pod bays, and I can see a significant hull breach. I'm reading massive technological failures, so I'm going to assume…" Zac checked the final scan. "Yeah, there are no life forms aboard." He strained against his own seat harness to look inside the cockpit window. Zac couldn't see if anything was in the cockpit or not. Even with a hull breach most freighters were equipped with an emergency failsafe in the cockpit.

"Get clear, _Shadow Eclipse_. We'll have to… wait… _Shadow Eclipse_, please verify _Smuggler Vice's_ trajectory." Alarms were sounding in the background of the comm and Zac knew that their calculations were showing an impact.

Zac's comlink beeped. "Roger that, calculating impact zone." The comlink showed it was Fayla. He switched channels. "Fayla, you might have wished you stayed in your ship."

"I heard, Zac. What can we do?"

Zac couldn't answer her. Closer to the station, now eight klicks away, Zac's calculations appeared on the monitor showing a direct impact with the training wing of the station. "Fayla, you can get the hell off the station!" He switched back to the emergency comm channel. "Corellian spaceyard, this is _Shadow Eclipse_. The _Smuggler's Vice_ is headed for the docking platforms of sector twelve of the station, where the training school is located! You've got to blow this junk out of the sky!"

"That's a negative, _Shadow Eclipse_. Once it's in range of our guns, we can't guarantee the cargo won't affect the station."

_By the Force, this stuff is so explosive that it would damage the station from a klick out? _ Zac thought.

The station communicator continued, "Are there any guns on board your vessel?"

"Negative. No tractor beam, either."

Zac's trajectory calculations came back to him with a stark warning. A mechanical voice played over his headset, "Station impact in one minute."

"What a great time for CorSec to be dragging their feet."

"Cut the chatter, _Shadow Eclipse._" Zac knew that he had left his comm on. He also didn't care.

Fayla's signal was beeping in, but Zac ignored it. _Well, only one thing to do._ "Corellian Spaceyard, I'm going to try something." Zac wasn't sure how he was going to explain what was going through his head, but without guns or a tractor beam, he had very limited options. Very slowly, he began pulling up on the flight yoke. Increasing power to the shields, he felt his freighter shudder as he pressed the shielded freighter against the renegade cargo hauler.

More alarms sounded as the shield console went blood red and screeched warnings at him. Sparks flew out of the console beside him and showered the entire cockpit, some of them stinging Zac's cheek. He was blinded temporarily, as he quickly turned his face away from the console. With a firm grip on the yoke, he kept control of the freighter and pulled up slightly harder. The _Shadow Eclipse _was only half the size of the _Smuggler's Vice, _so Zac knew it would require all of the force he could muster to shift the trajectory of the _Smuggler's Vice_. _These shields aren't going to hold anyway, _Zac thought_. _He slapped the shield console and directed the power to the engines. The shields disappeared and the hull of the _Shadow Eclipse_ slammed into the hull of the cargo freighter,causing even more alarms to blare in his ears. But Zac could see the starfield in front of him begin to shift. The spaceyard grew quickly and began to fill the entirety of his viewport forcing Zac to pull even harder on the flight yoke.

The screech of straining metal filled his ears and drowned out the alarms as the communications system blew out. Wincing against the noise, Zac stared up at the ship that was blocking most of his view. He could barely see outside his viewport, but he knew the station to be close. The _Smuggler's Vice _was going to pass barely over the hull of the spaceyard hull, leaving no room for the _Shadow Eclipse_. With all power to the sublight engines and afterburners, he would never be able to stop or reverse fast enough. Zac slammed his fist down on the repulsorlifts, which were reserved for landing the large craft.

The repulsor field slammed into the hull of the station and bounced the _Shadow Eclipse_ away from the hull of the station, a hair's breadth from colliding head on and completely destroying the _Shadow Eclipse_. The ship tumbled end over end, and the rear of his freighter slammed into the _Smuggler's _Vice, pushing the craft out and away from the station, but severely damaging both crafts. The cockpit around Zac went dark and the cockpit's emergency door slammed shut as the cabin behind him lost pressure from a hull breach.

The world around him fell silent. Zac was breathing heavily, watching the stars rotate around the cockpit and listening only to his heart beating in his chest. He could barely hear the alarms sounding from the cockpit consoles. Every few seconds, he could see the _Smuggler's Vice_ pass his viewport, spinning out of control away from the station and away from Corellia.

After several attempt to restart what little ship he had left, Zac slumped in his seat just to watch the stars pass by the view port. In waiting, Zac looked for familiar constellations. With only several seconds to identify each group of stars, Zac's eyes quickly grew heavy. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and he felt himself on the verge of nodding off when floodlights filled the cockpit and a rescue shuttle moved into position to pick him up.

When his hatch opened, he climbed out of the stale, warm air of the remnant of the _Shadow Eclipse_ and took a long, deep breath of cool, recycled air of the rescue shuttle. His eyes were open for only a moment when he felt Fayla's fierce embrace. Her head was buried in Zac's flight suit, her body shaking.

"I was so worried. I thought…." Her voice trailed off.

"I know." Zac softly embraced her back.

She was silent for a while. The two other crew members worked around her awkwardly to secure the data from the _Shadow Eclipse _ and seal up the hatch, without making much eye contact with Zac. "I shouldn't have put you out there," she finally said with an disparaging sigh.

"If you hadn't we'd both be dead," Zac replied with a grin.

She sniffed and laughed, still embracing Zac tightly. "Typical Corellian bravado."


	3. Chapter 3

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_

**STAR WARS: TALES FROM THE OUTER RIM**

Luck of the Draw

_From the Adventures of Zac Muleer_

-3-

The debriefing didn't quite go as planned.

Zac was getting the business end of a good dressing down from the spaceyard administrator for the willful destruction of the _Shadow Eclipse._ The irony didn't escape Zac that it had probably saved the station. Fayla was next to him getting her own version of the speech for putting 'such a reckless pilot at the helm' of their freighter, 'not to mention just a trainee.' But the fact that the station was grossly unprepared for this type of incident would make him look bad in front of the CorSec chief, and the administrator needed someone to blame.

Right when the administrator was getting to the part about the loss of a full shipment of Tibanna gas, and how Zac's little maneuver destroyed whatever was left of the gas, venting it into space, and what that would do to the shipbuilding schedule, the station received a call from CorSec Command. He was called out and didn't return to the debriefing room.

The cycles ticked by before the Executive Officer finally appeared through the blast doors. "Ensign Muleer. Flight Officer Els'eil. You have a holocall coming through." He tapped a few controls on the central console and promptly turned and left the room. Zac frowned and walked to the comm. Before he could view the ID, a projection appeared in front of him. Two meters tall, chest bristling with medals, and a lopsided grin on his face, the Commander of the Corellian Security Force stood in a translucent bluish hue in front of Zac.

"Ensign Muleer! Can't tell you how glad I am to have you on board that station! Or _off_ that station as the case was."

He knew the commander's dossier: he wasn't a fan of humility. "Thank you, sir. I'm sure you've heard that there are some on this station who feel the same way, Sir," Zac boasted, not doing a good job of suppressing his smile.

"I can only imagine. I hope the station _administrator_ isn't giving you too much trouble." He sneered the word, clearly holding a disdain for administrative bureaucracies.

Fayla's fur was still rippling as she seethed from the dressing down they had received from the station administrator. "Only a little trouble, sir," Zac responded.

"Well, Mr. Muleer, I want to congratulate you, and be the first of many to do so."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Under review by CorSec Command – and ignoring the station administrator's attempt to ground you – you have just been submitted for recognition as one of the youngest Corellians to be awarded the first-class bloodstripe."

Zac blinked. He was utterly speechless. "I, uh, well, thank you sir. I appreciate the thought, but surely there is someone more deserving…." His bravado quickly melted away as he suddenly felt uncomfortable.

The CorSec Commander laughed. "Not so much, Mr. Muleer. The thing about the Bloodstripe is that it's not awarded to individuals who are heroes in the heat of the moment. Your critical thought process and sustained action despite risking your life and career saved the station." He began counting off on his fingers. "That station is a critical asset to Corellia's defense. Your skill saved at least the lives of your training squadron, and likely many others who were on board that station. You knew that damage would be caused to your ship, yet you put yourself in danger anyway. And you pulled off one hell of a flying stunt that was far above what can be taught at the CorSec Flight Academy." He leaned in. "But you can bet we'll be teaching it now!" Leaning back out and rocking on his feet, he turned to recognize Fayla. "I'm glad we have instructors there with the foresight to put experienced trainees in the chase freighter."

_So, I get recognized with the planet's highest award for being lucky, _Zac thought. He glanced nervously over to Fayla, who was beaming at him, obviously proud of her friend and student. "Surely you're missing more worthy nominees," Zac offered.

"Son, just take the damn nomination." He laughed and pointed at Zac. "Just remember the first rule in the galaxy, Mr. Muleer: no good deed goes unpunished."

"Like awarding a mere student the famed Bloodstripes." Zac bowed his head. "Thank you, sir, but you're going to regret that." He looked back at the holo and grinned.

"Officer Els'eil submitted your flight records to CorSec Command and my aide has shown them to me. I don't think I will, and I'd bet my rank on that." He saluted, and the holo quickly faded out, before Zac could return the salute.

Fayla was grinning and clapping him on the back before he was even able to step away from the holocomm. "Congrats, Zac!" Zac was feeling woozy and he made his way to a console chair to lean against. Fayla was chittering excitedly about Zac's upcoming fame, while Zac was running through the responsibilities and ramifications of being awarded the Bloodstripes. Neither of them heard the station administrator walk back into the room.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat, waiting for the two young pilots to snap back to attention.

Zac and Fayla straightened up, but Zac didn't lose his smirk, and Fayla's fur was rippling. Clearly, this man agitated her, but they both knew he wouldn't do anything after the call from the CorSec commander.

"It seems your actions have given you some renown on the planet, Mr. Muleer," he sneered. "And Ms. Els'eil, your blatant disregard for administrative action on board this station have been completely overlooked." His eye twitched. "Pending an order by CorSec Command, I will process the Commander's request. I don't like it when regulations are not followed, Ms. Els'eil. I expect your files to be in pristine condition when this matter is behind us. Mr. Muleer, you will continue flight training with the rest of your class, but you will not do so in a freighter. You will rejoin your classmates and complete your classes _with_ your cohort. However, I have some good news."

The way he said that did not prepare Zac for good news.

"_I _ will be overseeing the evaluation of your progress from here on out. And if I see anything that costs this station one credit more, or one file that's out of place, I'll have you shipped back to the crystal swamps as slice hound bait. You get me?"

"Yessir." Zac and Fayla both barked.

"Now, listen up. And listen very carefully. Until this investigation is complete, you are both confined to the station. CorSec may have anointed you a hero, but you are administratively incompetent. I want full reports on my desk in two days, and your flight status will be reevaluated in one week." He turned his back toward the door. "Now get out."

Zac and Fayla turned on their heels and hurried out the blast doors on the other side of the room. They got on the lift and headed toward the barracks level. Fayla finally spoke. "I guess this means we have some time on our hands."

"Looks like we've earned ourselves a little staycation," Zac said grinning.

Fayla was smiling as well. "So what do we do first?"

"Well, first I'm going to change out of this flight suit. Get into something respectable."

"Very funny."

"And then, I'm hitting up the sabacc tables in the station's casinos." Zac grinned. "First, an award of honor, and then a week of leave? I'm going to keep this lucky streak going for as long as I can!"


	4. Chapter 4

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_

**STAR WARS: TALES FROM THE OUTER RIM**

Luck of the Draw

_From the Adventures of Zac Muleer_

-4-

The spaceyard casino was dark and cramped. Smoke of various kinds clung to the ceiling, and the stench of too many pilots who haven't visited a 'fresher in weeks permeated the air. Zac shouldered his way through the stale crowd and made his way to the bar. The bartender, a greasy-looking blonde human nodded a welcome to Zac and turned to fill a small glass with Corellian whiskey.

_It's good to be known,_ Zac thought. H_aving the Bloodstripes will certainly make this easier._

He pushed his way to the bar and took a sip of the golden liquid before a group of dockworkers bumped into him. They moved along without acknowledgement or apology to Zac, who shot a frown in their general direction. More beings were trying to wedge their way to the bar, more interested in the drinks than the company. So Zac slipped back toward the sabacc tables, and away from the larger crowds, and took a sip of the warming liquid.

Fayla had skipped Zac's invite to the casino – she wasn't much of a gambler, anyway. She had mumbled something about getting her reports in order. She was, after all, still an instructor at the Flight Academy, and had other students besides Zac. Besides, she was always a little uncomfortable in the seedier areas of Core planets, where even despite the large nonhuman population, bothans and other aliens weren't treated with much respect by the human population.

_The Empire is making a mistake in allowing xenophobic segregation – even in the name of stability, _Zac thought as he looked around the bar seeing almost all humans. _But it's not like we have much of a choice._

Despite all of the noisy gambling machines and flashy droid dealers, Zac was interested in one game: sabacc. It was a high stakes card game, where strategy was more frequently overruled by bad luck over planning ahead. It was a game of chance that could change a good hand into a loss quicker than a Selonian with its hair on fire. But a hand could change from a poor hand into a win just as quickly. Zac headed to the back of the bar, where he saw a wookiee standing in a shadowy alcove, secluded from the rest of the casino, but facing the tables. The wookiee was staring into the sabacc room and wasn't moving at all, except for his eyes flicking back and forth between each of the players at three card tables. Coolly, Zac handed a credit chit to the wookiee, and asked about the sabacc tables.

Zac knew the wookiee was a spotter, watching the tables and playing the odds in his head. Spotters watch the tables and depending on the tip, would offer suggestions to newcomers, which tables are hot, which ones to stay away from, and would alert security if any holdout blasters appeared under the tables. Keeping his concentration on three tables, he pointed Zac toward the center table. If Zac did well, he'd be sure to tip more on his way out. It was unspoken protocol.

Zac walked around and loaded his account information into the console in front of the table. He allocated several hundred credits to his account at the casino before he pulled out the chair at the center sabacc table. Sitting around the hexagonal table were two other humans, a rodian, and a sullustan. All of them were older than Zac, but none were dressed as nicely. "Evenin', folks," Zac drawled. In new groups, he tended to accentuate his homeworld's accent, which had all but disappeared from his daily speech. The drawl, if identified correctly by one of the others around the table, would identify Zac as slow, untraveled, and a poor gambler – all three things Zac wanted his opponents to assume to get the better of them at the table. If it wasn't identified at the table, he would just sound extra friendly. "Room fer one more?"

"Hi there," one of the humans greeted Zac. The others around the table smiled or grunted and nodded, acknowledging Zac's place at the table. The human who spoke motioned toward the empty seat. "Seat is all yours," he said. He wore a patch over one eye and was sporting a thick brown moustache. The other human, a female with engine grease smudged on her face eyed Zac suspiciously before turning her full attention to the dealer droid. The rodian and the sullustan barely looked up as they counted out the ante for the next bet among their chips.

The droid swiveled around the table, announcing the next round. Zac threw in fifty credits to ante and three card readers spat out of the table in front of him. Zac pulled up his cards and quickly counted them up.

Sabacc was a relatively simple game where gamblers tried to reach a value of twenty-three by various means (usually luck) with a hand of three to five cards. With each round came a round of betting, and a round of shuffling, where cards in the hands of players had the potential to shuffle at any given time. Tradtionally, sabacc was a high stakes game played for thousands of credits per hand, but in this area of the spacedocks, a hundred credits went a long way.

Zac picked up his hand and automatically threw in ten more credits. He counted up his cards' values – fourteen positive. He had two strategies now. Go in for one more card and hope the shuffle gave him a mix of high positive and low negative cards, or stick with his three and pray for a miracle.

The sullustan was already moving his hand into the shuffler. The human male tapped on his eyepatch absentmindedly while he surveyed the table, then tapped for another card. The rodian moved his hand towards the shuffler, and the female tapped for another card. Zac pushed in to shuffle.

The droid announced, "Moves have been made. Please enter your bets. " The droid started with Zac, who had the last move.

"Five." Zac started small, knowing that these betting rounds escalated quickly, and he had no intention of only playing one hand tonight.

The pot ended up at fifty-five, larger than Zac would have liked, but not unreasonably high. Zac looked around the table as the cards were being dealt or shuffled in each player's hand. He could feel himself being watched, just as he knew the other players could feel him watching them. Well, him and the wookiee spotter. And the casino security. He took the last sip of his drink and glanced around. Before he could locate a serving droid, one wheeled up behind him and placed another drink next to his empty glass.

He pulled his hand close and took a quick count. _Positive eighteen. _ _Better than before, at least_. Now players could hold onto cards and shuffle the rest of their hand. The closer players got to twenty-three, the closer the game was to "sabacc", and the pot would be awarded. Unless they went through three rounds of betting, then the closest player to sabacc would be awarded the winnings.

Zac's final hand was positive twenty, a good hand, but not good enough to beat the negative twenty-two that the rodian put down.

Shrugging and smiling, Zac tipped his glass toward the rodian before taking a sip. The rodian's eyes flicked up and saw Zac nod, but turned back to his winnings, completely ignoring the gesture. _Not here to make friends, I see¸_ Zac thought as he threw in fifty credits for the next hand.

Six hands later, Zac was up five hundred credits, almost double the amount he entered with. The human female and sullustan had cut their losses and left the table. Zac was having a lively conversation with Eyepatch assessing the various assets of different podracer pit squads: Eyepatch insisted that the droid crews were the most important, while Zac maintained that fan interaction was crucial, and the twi'lek dancers employed by the pit crews were essential to a podracer's fan base.

Eyepatch was laughing heartily. "Why can't we agree to have both?"

Grinning, Zac loudly proclaimed, "What? And give in to the argument? Never!" Zac took another drink, spilling some down the front of his jacket. "Besides, podracers can barely afford to keep their power couplings intact. They can only have one, and you have to choose."

"All right, I'll choose, but first you better pay attention." Eyepatch motioned toward the dealer droid.

The droid was clearly getting impatient with Zac. "Sir, I will only ask you one more time. If you insist on playing the next hand, I must have your ante."

The rodian grumbled something similar under his breath, but in much ruder terms.

"All right, shiny, keep your bolts on." He tossed a credit chit into the center of the table. Zac pointed toward the rodian. "And you, my friend, might find more luck headed your way if you were a little nicer to the table."

"E chu ta, poodoo."

Zac's smile melted in an instant. "Now that was just uncalled for. Especially when I ain't the one at this table who's been cheating."

The rodians eyes widened in anger and started to puff up his chest, breathing heavily and sputtering words and curses at Zac. Eyepatch leaned over the table and pinched Zac's sleeve. "Hey there, pilot. No need to take it personal." He started to tug at Zac's sleeve, who was leaning on the table. "And let's not throw around accusations like that around. That's an ugly word around here."

Zac smirked back at Eyepatch. "You don't say?" Zac twisted his arm out of Eyepatch's grip and grabbed his sleeve, pulling it back in an instant. A blank sabacc card fell onto the table with a clatter. Blank sabacc cards, known as skifters, could mimic the cards being dealt without undergoing the required shifts during gameplay. They were also highly illegal in all casinos galaxy-wide.

The table went red as the security alarm was triggered by the dealer droid and the crowd was beginning to take notice. The crowded room's patrons stretched their necks as people began to notice the commotion. Two station security guards were already on their way over to the sabacc room and the wookiee spotter had slinked away to a shadowy corner.

Eyepatch glared at Zac with his exposed eye. "You filthy womprat!"

Zac hadn't let go of the man's sleeve. "Don't be so obvious next time." The security agents approached Zac and Eyepatch and stood between them. They glanced at the dealer droid, who was pointing at Eyepatch. Taking a firm grip on both of his arms, they pulled him toward the front of the casino.

Zac picked up the skifter and threw it at Eyepatch. "Better hang onto this. You need it since you have such a lousy tell."

"This station ain't that big, hotshot. You'll be sorry!" Eyepatch shook his arms out of the guards' grip. "I got it, you dumb banthas," he muttered and stomped out of the casino. Before turning away, Zac noticed two sleazy-looking shadows follow closely behind him and ducking out of the casino.

The excitement over, everyone turned back to their drinks, Zac's heart began to return to its normal rhythm. The rodian, already in a foul mood, was not sticking around. He was cashing out his casino account, clearly ready to leave this rancor pit, muttering obscenities. The human female and the sullustan who had bowed of the game several hands before were yelping at the security reps, trying to get their winnings back from the cheating player.

The droid divided Eyepatch's holdings into two piles. "Sir, as the only player left at the table, you receive half of the winnings from the rulebreaker. Your account now includes eight hundred fifty two additional credits."

"My momma always taught me to quit while you're ahead. Cash me out, you lucky dealer," Zac said with a smirk.

"Sir, there is nothing lucky about my dealing protocols…" the droid began to ramble and Zac tuned him out. _Decent amount of credits netted. Not too bad, _Zac thought.

A large furry shape materialized from the shadows behind Zac and uttered a deep growl.

"I know. Thanks for calling security right before I exposed the guy. I have a feeling he would have spaced me, given the chance." He slipped two hundred credits to the wookiee spotter. "This happen often enough for you to profit?"

The wookiee bared his fangs in a frightening smile as he pocketed the credits.

"I'll bet. Also, thanks for giving me a head's up – switching my drink order like you did. When they kept showing up as non-alcoholic variants, I knew what to watch out for."

The wookiee growled back at Zac.

Laughing, Zac motioned toward the bar. "Of course it's time for a real drink. But I'm going to insist on buying this round."


	5. Chapter 5

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_

**STAR WARS: TALES FROM THE OUTER RIM**

Luck of the Draw

_From the Adventures of Zac Muleer_

-5-

_Never, ever try to keep up with a wookiee,_ Zac thought_. They can drink like Mon Cals._ The heavy music in the front of the casino had turned the place into a dance club. And between the crowd, the music, and the smoke of mixed origins, his head was beginning to throb. No stranger to hangovers, Zac welcomed the next morning compared to the headache the club was giving him. _I'm just glad the drinks the wookiee sent over to me during sabacc hydrated me before that round of drinking._ _Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to stand._

In a dull and hazy high, Zac made it out the door and the station suddenly seemed hollow. The bulkheads throbbed around him as he cut through the corridors toward the training wing, back toward his bunk. _Fayla's going to be sorry she missed such a good night_, Zac thought as he felt the hard edges of the credit chit in his jacket pocket.

The hair stood up on the back of Zac's neck a moment before he turned the corner. He knew trouble was waiting for him as he looked up the hallway. Blocking his path were two vaguely familiar shadows and one very familiar human with an eyepatch.

Zac glared at Eyepatch. "I figured I'd run into you sooner or later."

"Kid, do you know what there is to do when you are stuck on this station for a six-month tour?" Eyepatch leaned against the bulkhead and started to count off on his fingers. "Gamble, and… that's all. Gamble."

"You forgot cheat."

Eyepatch shrugged. "It's a part of gambling, so I don't count it separately." He pushed off the bulkhead and started towards Zac menacingly slow, like a predator approaching his prey. "The thing is, no casino on the station will allow me through the doors, thanks to your little _performance_ back there. So I can't rely on gambling for entertainment anymore." He lunged forward and his fist connected with Zac's stomach. "The only entertainment I have now is spacing you."

Zac coughed as he tried to catch his breath. He had gone down to all fours and could only get a few words out at a time before having to take a breath. "Big man. Coming from. " Cough. "A guy with. Two goons."

Eyepatch barked a laugh towards Zac. "I'm just evening the odds. By the way, I don't see your wookiee friend around." He kicked Zac in the ribs, circling him like a predator. "So really, you are playing a card short."

Zac knew enough about hand to hand fighting from his basic training to take a few hits, but a street fighter, he was not. He twisted away from the kick as it landed, attempting to soften the blow. It didn't keep it from hurting though. Through the throbbing pain, Zac pushed himself up onto his knees and looked up at Eyepatch. "Evening the odds? That doesn't sound like you."

"You know what? You're right." He cocked back his right arm and brought it around aimed straight for Zac's jawline. Zac flinched backwards and caught just only part of the man's fist. Stars flashed before his eyes from the impact – but Zac knew he wasn't staring out a viewport. The impact stunned Zac enough that he couldn't dodge the next fist that clocked him hard in the other direction. He tried to jump back up and tackle his attacker, but Eyepatch twisted away and threw Zac back to the floor.

_I probably shouldn't have had that last round_, Zac thought regretfully into the floor.

Eyepatch made a move towards his goons when all three of them started in on Zac. Eyepatch landed a another hard kick into Zac's torso, which Zac blocked with his forearms. One of the goons had made it around behind Zac and planted their boot heel hard against Zac's back. He opened his squinted eyes long enough to see a pair of black imperial-issue boots walking around towards his head and braced for the impact he knew would knock him out. After that occurs, he couldn't really stop these guys from dumping him out an airlock. He quickly grabbed his head with his arms before the kick landed, leaving him conscious to suffer more abuse.

"Station Security is gonna be here soon, boss." One of the goons insisted.

Eyepatch sighed. "Fine. I just have one more trick up my sleeve."

Zac looked up and in a single fluid motion, Eyepatch extended his arm and a holdout blaster pistol leapt out of his sleeve and into his hand. Zac squeezed his eyes shut and tried to twist away from the weapon, despite knowing what little good that would do at point blank range.

_So this is it,_ Zac thought, suddenly depressed that he didn't have anything more clever to think as his last thought.

The sudden, high-pitched whine of a blaster discharging two rounds echoed down the hallway. Flinching, Zac twisted even further. He panicked, trying to find the holes he knew he would find on his body. He didn't see any, and looked up at Eyepatch who still had the holdout blaster drawn, and trained on the floor in front of him, where Zac lay.

The smell hit Zac's nose before the realization that the blaster bolts _had_ hit flesh. One goon lay on his back, blood pouring from a not-quite-cauterized wound in his neck as he gasped for air, then lay silent. The other goon was pressed up against the wall after leaping back when the blaster bolts appeared. Panting, his moon-sized eyes stared at Eyepatch. Sweat immediately appeared to coat his brow as he shook, stunned and in shock.

Eyepatch continued to stand there, staring forward. Zac heard his heart beat several more times before Eyepatch collapsed to the ground like a demolished building. First his knees buckled and he dropped straight down before toppling over to the side. A small trickle of blood seeped through his smoldering eyepatch onto the durasteel floor. The holdout blaster clattered to the floor and bounced in front of Zac.

Zac's eyes met the goon who was still shaking against the wall. They both looked at the small blaster, then back up at each other.

In the same instant, they both reacted. Zac reached forward and grabbed at the blaster, while the goon scrambled toward the end of the hallway, away from Zac and the two dead bodies. Clutching the small blaster firmly, Zac took aim down the hallway and watched the goon in a zig-zag pattern down the corridor. Only steps from an intersecting hallway, Zac squeezed the gun, but did not pull the trigger.

A blaster bolt whizzed over Zac's shoulder so close he could smell and taste the scorched ozone around him. The red bolt slammed into the goon square in the back of the chest and sent him into the far wall like a thrown stuffed bantha toy. Zac spun with his newly acquired holdout blaster drawn at the dark figure crouched in the shadows of the station.

The figure stood slowly from his crouched position and pulled back a long black gunman's duster. He held two thin pistols – one in each hand. Spinning the pistols in each hand, he holstered both his weapons simultaneously. "Kid, put that thing away," he said, speaking through a helmet that Zac found familiar in form, but unique in design. "You had your chance to pull the trigger." His voice was low and even, but nasal – as all voices sound through helmet vocabulators.

Zac's arms felt like they had been carrying lead armor. His arms fell in front of him, but maintained a grip on the blaster. "Who?... I…" Zac stuttered.

"Oh, yeah, you're welcome." Zac noticed a small glint of armor underneath the folds of the coat the gunman wore as he walked past Zac and inspected the corpses. There was something peculiar about his method, Zac thought. _He's checking each body the same way. Looking for a pulse, searching for weapons, taking their datapads and wallets._

"Sorry. I'm uh. Everything's still hazy." Zac tried to stand, but managed to just lean up against the bulkhead. "I'm Zac Muleer."

"Nothing like a firefight to sober you up." Mid search of the second goon, the gunman twisted back and looked at Zac. "It's how I start every morning."

Zac shuddered to think of the daily use of this kind of deadly precision. "Who are you?"

The gunman moved to Eyepatch and began to loot his body. "Name's Bayne Vhett. I'm a bounty hunter." He pushed a finger underneath the eyepatch and peeled it off the dead man's face, pocketing the trophy. "This ought to be sufficient proof of death."

"He was marked?"

Bayne shuffled through his pockets and pulled out a small red access card. "Small time imperial informant, and a regular cheat. But it was easy enough to bring him down and I didn't have anything else to do tonight." He stood, palming the access card. "Seems this wasn't the only station casino he cheated. Or got busted at."

Zac only nodded. He had never met anyone who was so at ease with downright murder and thievery. Killing in the line of duty was generally frowned upon in security action, even by CorSec, unless in self-defense. Bayne had defended Zac, but he didn't have to kill them. It was bothering Zac that these men died for attacking him – and how _righteous_ it felt. Zac was feeling guilty for being alive.

"Look, kid. I watched you in the casino. You've got an impressive game plan, but," he pointed at the blaster pistol, still clutched in Zac's hand, "you need a better follow through. You've got a knack for acquiring credits, you use deceptive tactics, and you generally plan ahead for trouble that comes your way. You also have a smart mouth when you're getting the poodoo beat outta you. That's something any man's gonna respect."

"Thanks, I think."

"Here. I don't need this. It's the passcodes to get into his ship." Bayne tossed the red access card to Zac, who caught it awkwardly against his chest. "I've got my own ship, and besides, I just came for a different bounty, who recently skipped out and made it onto Corellia. This small timer was a bonus before I head out myself. Anyway, If I were you, I'd hire a slicer to put your name on the ship manifest before Imperials or CorSecs find you."

Zac felt as though he had swallowed the Maw as his stomach pitted. "I can't accept this," he tried to push the card back to Bayne, but the bounty hunter had spun and was already marching down the hallway.

"Better get outta here, kid. Station Security will be here any minute."

Zac stopped and his blood ran cold. He realized he had lost track of how much time he'd been there. The assault and subsequent assassination had taken, maybe a cycle or two. Security usually swings by any section every ten cycles. No telling when the next visit would be. Zac turned and limped down the hallway the way he'd come in. His legs weren't injured, but the rest of him hurt something fierce. The access card chattered against his casino winnings in his pocket as he shuffled as fast as he could back around toward the training wing.

Beads of sweat formed on Zac's brow. His mind raced and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Eyepatch's vacant expression and cindered eye socket was burned into his brain as though the blaster had hit Zac. He'd never seen a blaster wound like that before.

And the realization struck him: he was mere seconds away from being that very corpse on Deck Seventeen. If that bounty hunter hadn't been lurking in the shadows, they'd be cleaning his own congealed blood off the bulkhead and deck floor. _Is this what war defaults to? Me or them?_ Zac pondered the question as he saw a squad of station security guards running past him. Zac pivoted and turned toward the training wing and calculated his route in his head. _My life being tantamount to any other life in the galaxy?_

In the mean time, he had to figure out what to do next. He had essentially stolen a dead man's ship, who was seen in an altercation with Zac in the casino. Security may already be at his bunk. If they are, it may just be better to come clean and tell the truth. Tell them a bounty hunter followed him and saved him, and that Zac was essentially just a bystander in this whole situation. He lost track of time as he walked the hallways.

His comlink buzzed his thoughts back to the present. It would be Fayla. Zac clipped it to his ear and clicked the comm toggle. "This is Muleer."

"Zac, it's Fayla. What is going on?" Her voice was strained, like she was whispering loudly with the comlink too close to her mouth.

"It's a long story." He could feel the adrenaline in his system beginning to wear off as his whole body began to throb in pain.

"Imperial officers are here and looking for you. Better get back here on the double."

"Not station security?" If the Imperials were there, then they would have already taken jurisdiction over from station security. Bayne's words echoed in his mind that this guy was a small time imperial informant. _Blast it! I thought he meant he was an informant ON the imperials for the rebels._

"Zac, what did you do?"

"Nothing! Some guys jumped me. I can't swing by the med center first?"

"You better be near death if you swing by the med center! Zac, just get back to the barracks right now. " She clearly hadn't been informed by station security what had happened. "Consider it an order."

"I'm on my way." Zac clicked the comlink off. He hadn't been kidding about the med center stop. He could use a few bacta patches. He turned at the next hallway intersection for the lift – now taking the most direct route back to the barracks.

When he got to the blast doors to the barracks, he tapped the button and door hissed open, revealing Fayla standing directly in the doorframe. Her fur rippled as her face registered relief, shock, and concern in a manner of seconds. In the far corner of the room, near Zac's bunk stood two stormtroopers standing in front of one junior officer who was rooting around in Zac's footlocker.

Fayla was speechless as she tried to survey Zac's wounds and bruises, but Zac pushed by her and stood at attention in the front of the room. He loudly announced his presence to the Imperials. "Ensign Muleer reporting, sir. Can I help you find anything?"

The stormtroopers looked in his direction and pivoted so that Zac remained in their field of vision. The officer stood up holding a handful of ship tech manuals in his hands and sighed. "You've got to get a life, Ensign. There are better things to read than ship manuals and better company to keep than… animals."

Zac didn't even want to turn to look at Fayla. He could hear her breathing increase in anger, but she stood firm. "That seems to be my prerogative, sir. Is there a reason for this inspection, sir?"

"I don't _need_ a reason to question you," the officer snapped. "It seems that an informant that the Empire has some interest in was seen in the lower deck casino tonight. Your furry friend here informed me that you were in the vicinity this evening. Is that true?"

_No sense in denying it. I didn't exactly lay low, _Zac thought. "Yeah, I was there. How do you think I got these?" Zac held out his arms, showing the bruises and welts that were beginning to form.

"I don't assume anything, Ensign. And I would invite you to keep a proper tone with me."

Zac wanted to roll his eyes but fought the urge. "Yes, sir." This imperial junior officer couldn't have been any older than he was.

"What happened at the club, Ensign?"

Zac fought the urge to cover any of his tracks. Despite this young imperial's brash attitude, he was just doing his job. Zac knew the best thing would be to clear the air and make sure the officials knew that Zac was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. "There was a cheat at our sabacc table. Mustached human, with an eyepatch. I called him out and after I left the bar, he and two henchmen jumped me." Zac again held out his arms. "That's where these came from." Zac held his breath and waited.

"And then?"

Exhaling, Zac could feel the anxiety in his chest. "They were about to blast me when some bounty hunter shot all three of them."

"So he's dead?"

"Yessir."

"Anything on the body?"

"Sir, I didn't take anything off the corpse." The words escaped Zac before he had time to think about them. _It's not technically a lie_, Zac thought. _The bounty hunter did, but he threw me the ship access card._

"What can you tell me about this bounty hunter?"

"He wore a mask, sir. And a black gunman's duster."

"Nothing we can put a bolo out on, though, eh?"

"I guess not, sir."

"It's a pretty well-thought-out scenario, Ensign. If what you are saying is true, then we'll have no problem verifying your story while you are held in the detention area."

That was enough to get Fayla shouting. "You have no right to hold him! The Empire has no jurisdiction on this station! Internal security…"

"Internal security answers to your Corellian Security Forces onplanet," the officer snapped. "And CorSec answers to the Diktat, who answers to the regional Imperial Moff." He puffed his chest out with pride. "Sooner or later, everyone and everything in the galaxy answers to the might of the Imperial Navy." Fayla had moved up next to Zac, and the two stormtroopers took a step forward of their own, moving menacingly toward her.

"That's enough!" barked Zac, taking a stand between Fayla and the Imperials. "Fayla, it's fine. I know the law and will follow it. It's why we're here." He turned to the junior officer and said in a tone that bordered on disrespect, "I have additional information if you leave my instructor out of this." There was a pregnant pause, and Zac added, "Sir."

"I'm listening, but don't expect any favors from me, you insolent spaceslug," the officer growled back.

Zac ignored the insult. "The bounty hunter's name was Bayne Vhett. He killed all three of the men who jumped me in the lower decks near the casino. He stole their datapads and gave me this, told me to keep it under wraps." Zac fished the access card out of his packet and held it out to the officer. "I recovered the holdout blaster from the mustached man. That is in my other pocket." Zac pointed to his left pocket, not wanting to get shot while fishing it out.

The stormtroopers glanced at the officer. The officer quickly grabbed the ship access card and gave a quick nod. Pushed backwards against the wall, the first stormtrooper twisted his left arm around and pinned Zac against the wall while fishing out the holdout blaster from his pocket. The other trooper grabbed Zac's other arm and held his shoulder against the wall while continuing the search. He recovered the credit chit in Zac's pocket and handed it to the junior officer, maintaining his hold on Zac. Fayla jumped at the officer who dodged and threw her to the ground, sending her tumbling behind him. She landed headfirst into a wall console, which shorted out, as she lost consciousness.

Zac's words were muffled as he was pressed up against the wall. "Blast it, let me go! I told you everything! I… ow! I turned over the ship and everything! Fayla! You ok? Fayla!"

"Under the authority of the great Emperor Palpatine, I am hereby arresting you in the murder of a known Imperial associate and the subsequent theft of his ship. You will be detained without trial until necessary time allows for us to complete our investigation of the matter." The stormtroopers held Zac fast against the wall, when he felt durasteel bonds slapped against his wrists and tighten. "Take him back to the detention area, troopers."

As Zac was led away from the room, he noticed the junior officer grinning as he held the red access card and the credit chit in one hand, watching the light glisten off of it. The officer smugly said to himself, "And let's take our time on the paperwork. No need to rush this one through."


	6. Chapter 6

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_

**STAR WARS: TALES FROM THE OUTER RIM**

Luck of the Draw

_From the Adventures of Zac Muleer_

-6-

_So much for good deeds being rewarded in the Empire, _Zac thought as he rubbed the new bruises he received after being thrown into the detention cell. The imperial liaison offices were spacious compared to the rest of the offices in the station, complete with a tiny brig. Zac had less room in his cell than he had in the cockpit of the _Shadow Eclipse_, which he longed to be cooped up in now.

The Empire's presence in the Corellian Sector was minimal, but required under the New Order. Pockets of resistance had popped up around the Corellian system, so it was up to local defense forces to put an end to them. The Empire had agreed that as long as CorSec managed security and kept the peace – essentially enforcing Imperial rule, then there was no need to station additional forces on the planet or aboard shipyards. However, they required a handful of liaisons to be present in the event of any CorSec misses.

So there wasn't a lot Zac could do but sit, listen, and wait. And think. Were these the types of officers in good standing among the Imperials? Between the bounty hunter's lesson and the imperial junior officer, Zac was beginning to question whether there was anyone who believed in the public good anymore. _No one honors sacrifice anymore,_ Zac thought. _The end of a noble life._

The stormtroopers and the junior officer were seated just outside Zac's cell room, where a small table and three chairs were pressed up against a wall. Files stacked up on a desk next to the forcefielded door in front of Zac and Wanted posters lined the walls. Zac noticed many of them shared similar facial features, but different haircuts and names. The bounties on some were incredibly high – former Senators, Zac read. Among those listed, Bail Organa and Mon Mothma were the only two names Zac recognized.

The stormtroopers had their helmets off and were playing a small round of sabacc with the junior officer. They had divided the winnings they confiscated from Zac among themselves and were playing through the third hand when there was a chime, indicating someone at the door. _Those mynocks are just going to take my stuff and let me stew in the brig, _Zac thought.

The junior officer rolled his eyes and got up. He scooped up his pile of "winnings" which included the red access card and pointed to the troopers. "Check the security feed."

After a pause, the stormtrooper answered, "It's just his friend. The hairy one."

"No one with her?"

"Negative, sir. Can we just ignore it?"

The junior officer sighed. "We'll have to deal with her sooner or later. Otherwise, she'll cause problems with her chain of command, and then we'll actually have to fill out the datawork for him." He jerked his thumb toward Zac in his cell. "If I can go as long as possible without filling out any forms, I'm a happy servant of the Empire."

The lights flickered for a moment, which only Zac and the junior officer noticed as the stormtroopers pulled on their helmets. Zac kept watching the junior officer as he glanced around the room and holstered his blaster before moving in front of the door.

The door shifted, but stopped before opening all the way, leaving a small gap between the floor and the bottom of the door. A tiny canister bounced underneath and rattled to a stop by the junior officer's perfectly polished boot. Zac knew it would be one of two things, and in that nanosecond of recognition, he decided which one he preferred _least._

"Flashbang!" Zac clapped his hands over his ears and shut his eyes as tight as he could a moment before the sonic concussion grenade detonated, setting off a blinding flash and deafening boom that rattled everything inside the small detention office. When Zac opened his eyes, the lights in the office had gone out, sending in blinding white light from the hallway. His vision noticeably blurred, he barely made out several large shadows moving across the door quickly. The forcefielded door in front of Zac then sputtered out, leaving the room even darker.

The stormtroopers' began firing, their helmets protecting them against most of the force of the blast. A dark shadow blocked the light coming from the hallway and Zac recognized the recently familiar shape of the bounty hunter's duster-covered armor and menacing helmet. He pulled up two pistols and Zac hit the floor, before both stormtroopers clattered to the ground. The impact of their armor on the durasteel floor still rang hollow in Zac's ears.

From behind the silhouette of Bayne Vhett, darted a dark furred bothan, who Zac immediately knew was Fayla. She ducked and slammed the full weight of her body against the junior officer, who was still blinking and holding his ears in pain. She sat on top of the officer, her knees pressing into his chest as she held his neck and pulled his blaster out of its holster and threw it back towards Zac. Zac reached up instinctively and grabbed the blaster.

Fayla's hands were clutched around the officer's throat, who was desperately trying to pry them loose. His voice was strained as he gargled, "Get… off… filthy… creature…"

Bayne walked over to the computer terminal and waved toward the door. A third individual walked in, a Balosar. He was a humanoid, but one possessing of two thin antennae on the top of his head. "Here, Jadak. Do what you can to get make this look like an accident."

Jadak sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Su-su-su-sure thing, boss, " he stuttered.

Bayne then walked over to Fayla, who had started digging her claws into the sides of his neck in anger. The junior officer continued to struggle, but was noticeably weaker fighting against her grip. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Els'eil, don't kill him. He's got to die by blaster for this to work."

She growled in anger and released his neck. The officer began to cough and convulse, finally able to draw in deep breaths, but still had a bothan kneeling on his chest. He glared up and began to speak, but Fayla brought a quick fist across his jawline. "Quiet," she hissed. "You don't get to insult me anymore."

The officer sneered beneath her. "The Empire will punish you for this, you filthy scum."

He stared at her in defiance, and then spit the blood that was forming in his mouth at her. As she wiped the bloody spittle from her fur, Zac moved quickly over to Fayla's side and smashed the butt of the pistol across his temple. He went limp, his eyes staring into space, dazed. Zac looked up at Fayla. "Thanks for coming for me, Fayla. You didn't have to."

"Shut it. We both know that's not true." She was still seething with anger, but Zac could see her visibly calm herself. "Consider us even for your fancy flying. Difference is you got awarded the Bloodstripes and I'll lose my commission, get banned from the station, exiled from CorSec, and hunted by the Empire." She took a deep breath and held it before resuming normal breathing. "We always knew my time on this station was limited, anyway. Better to go out doing something I truly believe is the right thing to do."

Zac frowned and was about to answer when he heard Jadak behind him speaking to the bounty hunter. "B-b-b-boss? I just finished slicing into the security recordings. Those are all now corrupted beyond repair," he stuttered. He scratched the back of his head incessantly. "Um-mum-mum-mum -All that's left to do is file a p-p-p-prisoner report for the bothan."

Bayne nodded. "Do it."

Zac's head snapped back toward Fayla. "What? Fayla, no you can't!"

She was shaking her head. "Zac, it's the only way. I need to leave this station, anyway. I can't continue to support a group that willingly participates in this kind of corruption…" Her voice trailed off.

"…and hate." Zac finished her statement.

All she could do is nod. The black fur on her face was matted with tears. Tears of anger or regret or sadness, Zac didn't know. Maybe a little bit of all three.

The bounty hunter stepped forward. "Let's go. I have a bounty schedule to keep," he announced coldly.

Zac stepped protectively in front of Fayla. "I swear by the Force, if you touch her…"

Bayne cut him off. "Blast it, Zac, you do talk too much. It's not her."

Zac's face twisted in confusion. He stared at the bounty hunter's helmet, trying to see through the thin green visor for a sign, any sign of what was happening inside that head of his when he noticed movement in the visor. A reflection. Zac whirled, yanking Fayla's wrist and throwing her to the side where she tumbled onto the floor. There in the grip of the Imperial junior officer was the holdout blaster that was confiscated from Zac earlier that night. Zac dove in the other direction.

The room lit up bright green as a blaster bolt leapt from the holdout pistol and passed where Zac was previously standing. However, the green bolt slammed into the slicer hunched over the officer's console. The force of the blast threw him against the screen and he slumped over the console, killed instantly.

In the same motion that knocked Fayla to the floor Zac found himself lying on his side, gripping the officer's own blaster in his hand. He pulled the trigger twice, sending two blasts into the man's chest. The imperial officer's face was frozen in a state of shock, staring blankly across the room.

Bayne holstered his own weapon, which he had drawn when the first blaster was discharged. He nodded to Zac. "Good, you didn't hesitate.' He brushed a piece of lint off the front of his duster and pulled it tighter around himself, adjusting his armor. "You may learn something yet."

Zac looked over at Bayne. "So what's this schedule you have to keep?"

"You still don't get it, do you, kid? I don't do rescue missions. I do bounties only." He yanked a thumb towards Fayla. "Ms. Els'eil put a bounty on _you_ – alive only."

"Clever."

Fayla smirked. "I thought so."

"The rest of this is just me covering my own tracks. Though Jadak seems to have put a damper on my plans, that sniveling little stintaril." Bayne moved over to Jadak's corpse and pulled him off the console by the belt, sending him into a heap on the floor. "So, Mr. Muleer, the plan is to get you out and back to your bunk. However, we still need to make it look like these imperials arrested Ms. Els'eil, who escaped and killed her captors. I will provide transport to Coronet where she can go underground, and there, this contract ends." He tapped a few keys on the console, which beeped back to him. "Hmmm, security codes are back up." He pulled out his blaster and thumbed the setting to stun. "Guess all we can do it fry the electronics."

Zac touched Bayne's shoulder, stopping him from firing in the console. "May I?"

Bayne moved aside and waved at the console, inviting Zac to do what he could. Zac sat down and began basic hacking commands. He was no savant with a computer, but he knew enough to get by. _Ironic_, Zac thought_. I joined CorSec to bring justice to those that broke the law, who would seek to harm peaceful citizens. Slicers and murderers… the very thing I have become. And the very people who saved my life and career._ His fingers glided over the keys as he thought about Bayne's plan. One problem with Bayne's plan was bothering Zac. _What was going to happen to the slicer, Jadak?_

Bayne and Fayla moved to the dead stormtroopers and began dragging their bodies around the room. Zac attempted to avoid the keys that were stained with the blood of the slicer on the console. The console beeped. "I'm in," Zac announced to no one in particular. A quick search confirmed to Zac what he suspected and what the imperials had said. There was still no arrest file for Zac. No call out to CorSec informing them of the incident. No report to the regional imperial office.

Nothing to erase then, but they still had something to add. "Hey, Bayne. Mind if we use your slicer instead of Fayla?" He wasn't waiting for an answer as he pulled up a new report and started filling it out.

"He's no good to me dead. Do what you want." He glanced over at Fayla. "Still need a ride off this station?"

She nodded. "I'll pay. I just can't stay here."

"As long as you can pay," Bayne said as he moved to pose Jadak's corpse just behind Zac's chair as if he was passing the console during his escape before the dying Imperial officer shot him in the back.

Zac finished the form and made sure to make a note about Jadak's quick reflexes. _Only way he'll get four shots off, _Zac thought_. _He submitted it using the imperial officer's code cylinder before replacing them and surveying the room. Fayla and Bayne had set up the bodies to make it look like a standoff occurred after bringing in a new prisoner who had tried to escape. He nodded in approval. "Nice work." He looked at each of the guns in the hands of the placed individuals.

He pulled out the officer's pistol and took aim from the console he was working at and placed a shot into the chests of the two stormtroopers, already slumped against the wall. Their duraplast armor exploded in a shower of sparks from each one. Fayla then took an E11 blaster rifle from the stormtroopers and blasted the wall behind Zac, leaving scorch marks on the metal bulkheads. After they replaced the weapons, the trio did a quick survey of the hallway. When they were sure no one was coming, they slinked into the hallway and walked toward the hangar, where Bayne's ship was waiting.

Bayne led the way at a brisk pace while Zac and Fayla trailed behind.

"So, you're actually leaving?"

Fayla nodded, staring at the floor in front of her. She was scratching her fur around her face, where the imperial officer had spit his blood at her. "It's more than just this. I've been on this station for almost three years now, and I'm still a flight instructor. I was happy to do it, but the more control that the imperials have over CorSec, the less opportunities are going to be available for non-humans in the galaxy." Her voice trembled, as though she was fighting back the tears and the anger and the despair. "If there's one thing I know I did right, it's having you as a friend. And watching your back when you got in trouble." She laughed, but Zac knew it was forced.

"What are you going to do when you get planetside?"

"I've heard rumor among some of the other nonhumans about resistance cell forming. There are a lot of us who feel disenfranchised by the Empire."

"How can I help out?"

She stopped and pushed Zac into a wall, and all of the aches from his bruises returned. Her black eyes wide and the fur around them wet and matted. She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Zac, promise me you won't come after me. I can't risk being found, by you or anyone. I've told you more than anyone else, and I need you to swear to me now that you'll stay here. Stay here and live your life as it plays out."

Zac's voice cracked as he said, "I swear." His throat tightened up and he swallowed hard.

Her comlink beeped before Zac could mumble anything else. She answered quickly. "Yes?"

"It's Bayne. Let's go."

She turned and walked toward a back hallway, which would empty into the back of the docking bay, behind Bayne's ship. Zac followed a few steps behind and took a look at the mangled mass of metal that perched before him. It was a cobbled together Y-TIE, frequently known among pilots as an 'Ugly.' In consisted of the body of a Republic-era bomber with the wings of a TIE fighter grafted to each side, in place of its traditional engines. It was a favorite among pirates because of the cheap and readily available spare parts, but also regularly hunted by law enforcement because those parts were usually stolen property.

"You'll have to excuse the accommodations, Ms. Els'eil. The 'passenger' seat has been retrofitted into something less… accommodating." Zac took a quick glance and could see the gunner's bubble seat had all of the controls and electronics torn out behind the cockpit and was nothing more than a small cell – hardly bigger than the brig he was thrown into on the station by the imperials.

"It'll be fine," she answered without looking. "We're not going far." She grabbed Zac and clung to him hard before slipping a familiar red access card into his hand. "Thanks for everything, Zac. See you around." With that, she turned and stepped into the ship.

"Yeah, see ya."

Bayne waved a gloved hand at Zac. "Hey kid. Come do pre-flight with me." Bayne started a wide, slow circle around the ship, occasionally checking a maintenance plate or a fuse box. "You've got a good thing going here on this station, but the Empire will eat you alive. They're swallowing up local security faster than Ms. Els'eil realizes. Now, I'm not one for dishing out compliments, so I'm going to make this short. You've got a good head on your shoulders and can fly the hell out of a freighter. I know what you did aboard the _Shadow _Eclispe and that takes guts. Now that you can shoot a blaster, I might be able to use someone like you on a job."

"Is this why you're helping me and Fayla out? So you can ask for a favor someday?"

"Kid, I ain't helping you for free, and I don't believe in favors. Fayla's paying me to get her off this station." He completed the circle with Zac and stopped in front of the ladder that led to the cockpit of the ship. "I'm saying your kind doesn't last long in the Empire. Stay smart, kid, and we'll cross paths again. You never know when one needs a well-trained freighter pilot with a smart mouth."

"My momma taught me it was better to be lucky than smart."

Bayne spun with a flourish of his duster and began climbing the ladder to the cockpit of his ship. "Then I swear by the barrel end of my blaster, you better sharpen your skills at the sabacc tables."

***END***


End file.
